


The Other Place

by gowerstreet



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, Gen, Lewis Summer Challenge 2015, The past is another country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gowerstreet/pseuds/gowerstreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When James receives an unexpected phonecall, it takes him back to somewhere he thought he'd left a long time ago. But Robbie won't allow him to face things alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> This is my first fic outside the Sherlock/ACD universe. Many thanks to Small_Hobbit for acting as beta reader on this chapter, to 221bjen for general hand holding (even though this isn't *yet* one of her fandoms) and mydwynter whose fics pulled me into this fandom in the first place...

Robbie was used to observing the physiological reactions to bad news; after all he had been the professional messenger of such for more than thirty years. His sympathy was tinged with the memory of being the recipient on a handful of desperate occasions. Each act of notification still pulled at him, but somehow professionalism won through. Part of the job after all, as much as the shifts and the callouts.

But to see that reflexive twitch, followed by desperate stillness, in someone he cared about stripped him of the whole pretence of coping.

James was a column of paling flesh, held up by the starfished fingers of his left hand pushing onto the desk.  His right clamped the landline phone to his ear, as if to stop the news spreading to pollute the rest of the office. This was a one-sided conversation, punctuated by a murmurs of 'yes', 'no' followed by 'I see'. Robbie’s sense of awkwardness increased as the conversation progressed, torn between wanting to give  the lad some privacy and tamping down his own worry-tinged curiosity.

 James gave a final “Thank you'. He set the phone back onto its cradle. The hand on the desk relaxed fractionally.

 "Y'alright?" blundered out of Robbie's mouth with his next breath.

James blinked. "Upright and breathing. If you could just excuse me for a moment?" The 'sir' remained unsaid, but Robbie felt its sting all the same.

\--

The moment stretched to five, then ten. Robbie couldn’t ignore the niggling worry any longer. He locked his computer then went on a not-so-casual stroll around the station in an attempt to put his mind at rest. Not that it worked. He walked round the side of the building, past smoker’s corner and looked across the half-filled car park. James’ car was missing. The air felt and clammy against his skin, as though the morning was spoiling for a fight.

Where the hell had he gone? Robbie pulled out his phone.

Anything you want to tell me? This moment is dragging on a fair bit. RL

Robbie passed the door of Innocent’s outer office, where the latest temp sat on guard duty. She looked up at Robbie’s approach. “She’s not to be disturbed on any accounts, I’m afraid, but she does have some time later. Would that help?”

He tried to smile. It really wasn’t her fault. “No, it’s fine,” remembering to silent the ‘love’ which often came out accidentally. “Have you seen Hathaway?”

“You’ve just missed him, sir. He came in to speak to CS Innocent for a few minutes, then left in a hurry. I’m afraid I don’t know where he went. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He shook his head. “ That’s kind, but no.” Not unless she could spirit the looming sod out of hiding. The inner door opened. “Robbie. A word please?”

Innocent leaned against the front edge of her desk, a few feet away. “James came to see me regarding the possibility of using his accrued time off in order to deal with some urgent personal business. I had no issue in principal, but procedurally the request should have been previously approved by you.” She regarded him closely. “Is there anything of which I should be aware regarding your working relationship?”

Robbie frowned. “If there is, it’s the first I’ve known of it. He’s been quieter since the Briskin case wound up, but nothing significantly out of character. He’s been taking on more responsibility so .it doesn’t come as shock when he gets his own bagman, but no more than you requested, Ma’am. But I was there when his phonerang, and I recognise bad news when I see it. Afterwards, he asked for a minute and shot off.” He pushed his thumb hard against his palm. “I texted him, but there’s been no response so far.”

  
“I see.“ Innocent rounded her desk and sat down. “You’re both owed far more time than this month’s overtime fund can allow. May I politely suggest that you take the rest of this week off and work out what is going on with your former sergeant? He said almost nothing to me, other than he needed the leave in a sufficiently urgent manner. I felt almost duty bound to allow it, given his general reluctance to be absent for anything other than hospitalisation. And while I appreciate that he is far from forthcoming regarding his life beyond work, if there is anyone who get him to open up and accept help, it’s you.”

“I’m as concerned as you are, but his private business is his own. Are you asking me to spy on the lad and report back?”

Innocent’s mouth tightened a fraction. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Of course not. But I think he's in a situation where he's going to need help and if we are able to provide that help, then we should do so.”

“And what if James isn’t prepared to talk?”

“Then we’ll have to let the subject drop.”

“You don’t sound convinced, Ma’am.”

“Sometimes saying it makes it so, if repeated sufficiently often with appropriate conviction. Now I’ll see you Monday, bright and early, preferably with James in tow.”

The meeting was over. Innocent opened a file on her desk and seemed to barely notice when Robbie shut the door quietly behind him. He strode back to his office, brain spinning.   Oh James, you daft ha’peth, what’s happened this time?

\---

The answer came half an hour later as he stood in front of the sink, contemplating this morning’s washing up. He’d managed to get in the car and head off just as the skies were splintered by another sudden, vicious shower. Navigating a route home amongst the tour buses and gormless day trippers took all of his attention. He took a brief detour to James’ street and found no sign of his car, then autopilot had taken over, and he was home before he’d realised. Fuck.

He’d tried James’ phone a couple more times once he’d hurtled from car to flat, but still hadn’t received a response. Right. Time to get round there and find out what the hell was going on. This kind of silence didn’t bode well, if the past was anything to go by.

Then he heard it. Four sharp taps on the front door, a pause, and then a fumbling attempt to get a key in the lock. “Hang on lad, give me a minute.” Robbie inched the door open. James was leaning against the frame, physically looming and emotionally shrinking. His suit jacket glinted with rain. “Get yersel’ in here and dry off. You allergic to your phone at the moment?”

James shook his head as he came into the kitchen. “No, sir.” He pulled out a collection of plastic and metal fragments that might have been a phone once. “Fell out of my pocket as I left the station, and hit the steps at an unfortunate angle. Was due for an upgrade soon anyway.”

Robbie felt oddly relieved. “And here was me thinking you were ignoring me. I’ll put the kettle on. Stick your jacket on a hanger and come and sit down.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Robbie grimaced.

“And less of the sir. We’re not at work, and besides, you’re the same rank as me now, even if the paperwork hasn’t come through yet.”

James’ face showed signs of brightening. “I’ll stop using Sir when you’ll stop calling me Lad. Deal?”

“Possibly.”

“Good. Now off with that jacket before you turn my sofa into a puddle.”

\---

“Took a detour past your place on my way home.” They were shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, and inch away from touch. “Wrongly thought I‘d find you there. Where did you get to?”

“The carpark at Waitrose. Seemed the best place to wait out the storm. Didn’t feel safe to drive further than that. Seemed little point causing an accident and ruining someone else’s day just because mine had suddenly gone somewhat bizarre.” James wrapped his hands even tighter around his mug.

“What happened? Are you in trouble?”

The shake of James’ head was miniscule. “The opposite in fact, even if it feels oddly tinged. The call I took this morning was from Ms Andrea Spencer, a  solicitor in Cambridge, with regard to the estate of one of her clients, a Mr. Simeon Kelly. He died last week, leaving his remains to medical science and his estate to me.” He focused on the crack in the far corner of the living room ceiling. “The thing is, as far as I know, and can remember, we never met.”

Robbie’s eyebrows darted upwards. “You absolutely sure?”

“An absolute stranger, with no discernable links to my family at all.”

Robbie hummed. “Difficult. Sounds like something out of Dickens. At the risk of sounding obvious, have you tried Googling him?”

“It had crossed my mind, but I doubt my phone is up to it at the moment.”

“Well that’s sorted, then. Use my laptop.” He spotted James’ frown. “Christmas present from Lyn. Wants me to get in the habit of Skyping, now that Jack’s getting bigger.” He leaned forward and reached down under his feet to retrieve it .”Makes a change from socks and Grandad jumpers. There you go.”

James frowned. “Don’t know your password.”

“Oh, you do. Code and a cat, of the metal variety.”  His grin faded a little. “Look, we’ll get through this quicker if you let Gurdip onto this. All it would take is one phone call.”

“Isn’t that misappropriation of police resources?”

“Not when an officer gets a mysterious phone call from an alleged solicitor regarding an apparent windfall from a previously unknown benefactor.You should know that Innocent hauled me in shortly after you did your disappearing act this morning. To say she’s concerned is  somewhat of an understatement. Speak to her. If this turns out to be genuine, all you’ve done is cover yourself. If not, you’re halfway to uncovering an attempt at something at best morally dubious and quite possibly illegal.”

“Can’t remember her number offhand.”

Robbie huffed and pulled out his own phone. “James, either you phone her and get clearance for this, or I will.“

“Not like you to pull rank.”

“Not many reasons or opportunities to do so of late,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “Come on, lad, see sense.”

“Alright, sir. “ James took the mobile and dialed the number from memory. “Just to put your mind at rest.”

\--

“James.”

“Ma’am. If I could take a few minutes? It’s in relation to my request for urgent leave.”

“By all means. I’m all ears…”

Innocent’s voice didn’t carry particularly well across the sofa. Robbie sat in silence for the second time that day, trying to piece together the other side of the conversation. He didn’t have long to wonder, as James passed the phone over.  
“Yes Ma’am?”

“I’ve sent Gurdip a message and he should be in touch shortly. If anything of a criminal nature is uncovered, I can give you the name of a senior colleague at Parkside who no doubt will be able to assist. Look after yourself when you head over to the Other Place - you’ll be bit too far away to call for backup.”

“Yes Ma’am,“ he replied, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. “And thank you again.”

The  line went dead. James opened a new browser window on the laptop. “Right. Let’s see what Google can tell us.”

Robbie was in the kitchen when Gurdip’s email arrived fifteen minutes later. “No record of Simeon Kelly has turned up via the PNC, as either witness, perpetrator or victim. Not even a parking ticket.”

Robbie came through with some sandwiches. “Anything to add from Google?”

“Death notice in the Cambridge Evening News and a brief obituary. Seems he was something of an artist.” James clicked on a link. A black and white photo of a man in unremarkable middle age stared back at them. Further links led to a very basic website which had clearly been set up to act as a showcase for his paintings.

Robbie stared at  the screen as the images changed, tilting his head. “What the hell is that supposed to be? Looks like someone let a cat loose with a Paint programme.”

“It’s called Contritis.”

Robbie huffed.“And in English?”

“Broken-hearted would be a fair translation.”

“Not that I can see anything of that in those pictures.It’s all lines and splotches.”

“I’m sure the meaning is in there somewhere, but I am inclined to agree.” He dispatched his sandwich in three bites, never taking his eyes off the laptop screen. “Needed that. The solicitors check out, according to the Law Society website. I’ve sent an email to Ms. Spencer to arrange a meeting tomorrow to start untangling the legalities. I’d be grateful if you could come with me.”  
Robbie smiled. “No problem. Haven’t been there since before the last ice age. we went over there years ago to hunt down some witnesses at Addenbrooke’s. Can’t remember seeing much of the city.”

“More of the same as here, only different.”  
“Alternate universe then? Likely to find an outlier of Hogwarts, complete with owls and quidditch,am I?”

“Unlikely, unless the cloaking devices have failed...”

 


End file.
